


rebel girl, you are the queen of my world

by petitegaynerd (embuffalo)



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018), Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/F, Friendship, Internalized Homophobia, Like a lot of that, Please be warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embuffalo/pseuds/petitegaynerd
Summary: Tammy's strict parents have pushed her into a life focused on good grades, student body government, and competitive softball teams. Debbie is a rebel, bold and opinionated, used to talking her way out of trouble. Each day of Tammy's life begins to feel a little brighter when she meets Debbie Ocean and her crew of unusual, unapologetic friends.





	1. that girl, she holds her head up so high

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing: haha i love the dynamic between debbie and tammy, wonder if i could write some fun high school stuff
> 
> me, 30 minutes later: but what if it was sad??

Tammy Preston had learned to pride herself on her discipline. Her earliest memories were those of being stuffed into ruffled dresses and Mary Janes, being made to smile for her parents’ parade of dinner guests. When she was younger, she would fall asleep long before the dessert course appeared. As she grew up, she learned to keep herself awake and answer questions politely, only speaking to her parents’ friends when she was spoken to. By the time she finished elementary school, she had learned that keeping her head down and working hard was the best way she could avoid criticism or punishment from her parents. 

She had sat with the same group of semi-popular girls since eighth grade, girls who came from rich families and wore pearl earrings and had sleek ponytails. She wasn’t exactly meek or shy; she was an aggressive softball player, and she had politely but firmly made her voice heard in student government at St. Brigid’s Academy, the private school she had attended all of her life. But she wasn’t controversial. She didn’t exactly fit in, but she didn’t involve herself in drama. She didn’t date. She channeled all of her energy into softball practice, after-school clubs, and maintaining an impeccable grade point average, earning the respect (if not the friendship) of her peers.

Despite her best efforts to be an attentive student, there were some days when her discipline failed her. In the fall of her junior year, sitting in English class, Tammy’s mind was elsewhere, as she absently doodled tiny shapes in the corner of her notebook as her teacher asked for responses on the reading. Ernest Hemingway’s  _ A Farewell to Arms.  _ The book wasn’t exactly Tammy’s cup of tea. She had read it as assigned, but she didn’t have any thoughts that she wanted to share with her class, so she tuned out of the discussion.

But when a girl said loudly, “Frankly, I think Hemingway was a misogynistic ass and we shouldn’t read books that oppress women,” Tammy couldn’t help but look up.

The girl who had spoken was leaning back in her chair, with her plaid skirt rolled high and gum in her mouth. Tammy watched as the girl swung her long brown ponytail to the side. Her name was Danielle, or Daisy, or something like that. Tammy knew of her, but didn’t really  _ know  _ her. She had started at St. Brigid’s in ninth grade, after transferring from the local public school. She was known for voicing her opinions (often contradictory to the school’s Catholic teachings) and talking her way out of trouble. She played volleyball, a sport that Tammy knew little of and cared even less about. But now Tammy couldn’t help but pay attention. Because this girl--even though she was using language that was totally inappropriate in the classroom--was absolutely right. And Tammy couldn’t help but notice that the girl’s white Oxford shirt was unbuttoned so far that it showed her cleavage.

Not that Tammy was looking at the girl’s cleavage. 

She was just curious to know where the bold assertion had come from.

The teacher sighed. “Debbie, I must ask you--once again--to please refrain from using profanity during class discussions. I know you are not enthralled with the study of English literature, but even so, you should have a slightly more developed vocabulary by now.”

“My point stands,” Debbie said, crossing her arms. “Whether you like the way I say it or not.”

“Would you care to elaborate on your response?”

“Not if I’m going to face more unconstitutional censorship.” Debbie seemed intent on wearing down Mr. Humphries with her sharp gaze alone.

Tammy quietly raised her hand. The teacher seemed glad to have an excuse to disengage from Debbie’s challenge. 

When he called on her, Tammy said, “I think what Debbie is trying to say is that Ernest Hemingway’s writing demonstrates a lack of respect for women by minimizing their role in the action and only using them to further the story of a man. For example, Catherine is not shown to have much depth outside of her relationship with Henry.”

“Thank you for your contribution, Tammy. A valid point. Would anyone else like to respond to that?”

A boy raised his hand to reply, and Tammy returned to staring at her notebook. She thought she could feel Debbie’s gaze lingering on her, and she looked up to see brown eyes looking at her with amusement and the brunette flashed her a grin.

Tammy’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled softly in return.

When class let out, Tammy walked quickly towards AP Chemistry--her last class of the day, and it was Friday, so she just wanted it to be over--when she felt a tug on the back of her backpack. She turned slightly and found Debbie walking by her side.

“Hey! Tammy, right?”

“Yes, I’m Tammy. What’s up?”

“Thanks for speaking up for me back there.”

“You’re welcome. I mean, you were right. Hemingway was a misogynist.” Tammy paused before adding, “But I wouldn’t recommend getting on Mr. Humphries’ bad side.”

“It’s sweet that you care, but it doesn’t really matter to me what side of his I’m on.”

“He said class participation is a big part of our final grades.”

“I’ve pissed off almost every teacher in this school and yet I’ve never failed a class,” Debbie said, winking.

“But aren’t you worried about college?”

“There’s, like, five thousand schools in this country. I can definitely get into at least one of them without a perfect four-point-oh.”

“My parents want me to go to an Ivy,” Tammy said, unsure of what Debbie wanted from her “So I’m kind of stuck being a teacher’s pet.”

“Damn, that’s serious pressure. But fuck that! Follow your own dreams.”

Tammy stopped outside of the chemistry lab. She didn’t really know what else to say. “That’s a nice idea, but I don’t really have many dreams to follow,” she said stiffly. “And I have chem right now.”

“Catch you later, Tam-Tam!” Debbie called, as she disappeared further down the hallway.

Tammy opened the door to her chemistry class and spent the whole period trying to keep herself focused on atomic structure and organic compounds, instead of daydreaming about life full of wavy brown hair and going to tiny liberal arts college on the other side of the country and studying feminist literature away from her parents’ watchful eyes.

On the following Monday morning, when the whole school gathered in the chapel to start the week with prayer, Debbie Ocean sat down next to Tammy in the pew.

“Hey, Tam-Tam.”

“Hi, Debbie.”

“How was your weekend? Any more bold stands in the name of feminism?”

“Not exactly.” Tammy smiled at Debbie’s joke. “It was pretty normal, I guess. I played in a tournament on Saturday. I did homework. We went to church. That’s about it.”

“What do you play?”

“Softball. It’s a summer league and we’re wrapping up the season. Did you have a good weekend?” Tammy asked politely.

“Oh, the usual,” Debbie said, waving a hand. “Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.”

Tammy tilted her head quizzically. “I’m not sure I want to know what that means.”

“It was just a party.”

“Must be nice,” Tammy sighed wistfully.

“I’m guessing you don’t party much.”

“Not unless you count formal banquets.”

Debbie laughed, a little too loud, and received a fierce glare from one of the math teachers. “You fascinate me,” Debbie whispered.

Tammy wanted to ask Debbie what exactly she meant by that, but the school’s chaplain motioned for everyone to stand, and Tammy dutifully opened the hymnal in front of her.

Over the next few weeks, they began to talk more before and after (and even during) English class. Tammy learned that Debbie’s parents did something with international banking, so they traveled a lot, leaving Debbie home alone with her twin brother, Danny. Debbie was smart, but she didn’t like Catholic school or the Catholic faith. She was bold, and passionate, and sometimes cut class to go to protests downtown. She always did her homework but would often put her own spin on assignments, never afraid to take a stand with her work.

Tammy told Debbie about how her own parents were very religious and very strict. Her own father worked in the insurance business, but he was considering going into politics, so he had spent the past few years getting to know the local Republican bigwigs. How Tammy felt stifled in their house, like she couldn’t be her true self. Like she didn’t know exactly who her true self was.

Debbie listened thoughtfully, cracked jokes, and kept Tammy on her toes. When Debbie was around, Tammy felt lighter, bolder, happier. She couldn’t help but be drawn to Debbie Ocean’s sharp wits and free spirit. She was a breath of fresh air amidst the stifling, incense-scented cloud of Catholic repression.

Her friendship with Debbie made the days go faster and the sun shine a little brighter. One day in late October, Tammy was at home, doing homework, when her computer chimed, twice. Two messages from Debbie Ocean popped up.

[5:43] Debbie: hey, tam tam! my friends and i are gonna go out on saturday to eat and see a movie

[5:43] Debbie: do you wanna come?

Tammy quickly typed a response.

[5:44] Tammy: I’ll have to ask my parents.

She hit the mute button on her laptop and returned to a set of math problems, but when she finished the night’s assignment, she opened up the messaging app again.

[5:44] Debbie: lmaooo

[5:47] Debbie: i’m sorry that was probably rude

[5:48] Debbie: please don’t hate me

[5:50] Debbie: tammy pls text back

Tammy flushed. Her parents meant well. Most of the time.

[6:19] Tammy: I don’t hate you.

[6:19] Tammy: But I’ve told you my parents are very protective. 

_ Sometimes they’re suffocating _ , Tammy thought.

[6:21] Debbie: yeah true. ok babe just lmk

[6:21] Debbie: i can pick you up if u need a ride

[6:22] Tammy: I’ll ask them at dinner tonight.

Tammy was surprised that her parents had said yes, but she suspected--maybe dreaded--that they were perfectly content to have a night without her.

[8:03] Tammy: Mom and Dad said I can go. And a ride would be great, thank you.

[8:04] Debbie: dope

[8:04] Debbie: see u saturday then

[8:06] Debbie: oh and in school tomorrow lol

That Friday, Tammy was sitting with her usual lunchtime crowd--a group of girls from “good families” who were telling each other about their latest personal slights--when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hey, wild woman,” Debbie said to Tammy. She greeted the rest of the table with a curt “Ladies.”

Tammy’s friends briefly gave Debbie the side-eye, muttered brief hellos, and returned to their conversations.

Debbie leaned in towards Tammy, asking quietly, “Do you want to come and sit with me and my friends? I thought you might want to meet them before we hang out.”

“Oh. Sure. That would be nice.” Tammy excused herself from her table and picked up her tray, following Debbie across the lunchroom.

There were six other girls at Debbie’s lunch table. Some of the girls looked familiar, but some of them Tammy would have sworn that she had never seen before.

One of the girls greeted her. It was Lou, a lanky blonde who Tammy knew from the varsity softball team. “Hey kiddo,” Lou said.

“I didn’t know you knew Tammy,” Debbie chastised her.

“She’s a quick bat. She’s also possibly the only person I’ve ever met who acts like softball is a contact sport.”

Tammy blushed and took the empty seat between Debbie and a curvy brunette who introduced herself as Daphne.

As Tammy learned the names of the rest of Debbie’s friends and listened to them chat over lunch, she realized that Debbie had managed to befriend someone in every cliché high school clique. Lou was a senior, and a jock, lettering in volleyball, basketball, and softball. Rose, another senior, was artistic and cerebral. She played cello and worked backstage in the theater department, designing costumes for the school plays. 

There were three other juniors. Daphne was close with Rose, in with the theater crowd and all their drama. Tammy vaguely knew Amita, a brainiac through and through, who participated in the robotics club and the debate team. Nine-Ball was not-so-secretly a stoner. She was good with computer science and often ran A/V equipment for school events. Constance, the lone sophomore in the group, played the trumpet in the marching band and was part of the small group of skaters who wore Vans instead of the regulation saddle shoes.

She couldn’t figure out what exactly had brought them all together. Against her better judgment and thorough knowledge of Miss Manners’ training, she asked, “I’m sorry if this seems rude, but why are you guys friends?”

“Birds of a feather,” Lou drawled. The other girls laughed at this, but Tammy was still confused.

“What kind of feather?”

“The big ol’ rainbow-colored kind,” Nine-Ball said.

“The administration is uninterested in modern ideas,” Constance explained with an eye roll. “They’ve rebuffed multiple petitions to start a GSA and progress into the twenty-first century, so we formed an unofficial lunchtime group of girls who like girls."

“Oh.” Tammy felt like she had had the air knocked out of her.

“Is that not okay with you?” Rose asked, a little threateningly.

“It’s, um, it’s cool. I just didn’t know.” Tammy was turning bright red.

“Debbie, you didn’t say she was a new recruit,” Amita said.

“I’m not-- I don’t think-- My parents--” Tammy fumbled. She settled on saying, “I don’t mind, but being… different… isn’t really an option in my house.”

The table fell silent for a moment, Debbie’s friends exchanging glances with one another.

“I should probably go,” Tammy said hastily, standing. “But thank you for inviting me to sit with you, and I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

“Tammy, wait,” Daphne said. “You don’t have to go, and it’s not like you’re obligated to be a homosexual to be friends with us.”

“We won’t hold your parents’ beliefs against you,” Lou added. “We’ve all dealt with shitty homophobic parents in one way or another.”

The other girls chimed their assent, and Tammy settled into her seat once more. She didn’t say much for the rest of lunch but was more than content to listen to the conversation around her. Like Debbie, these girls were sweet and funny and unapologetically themselves. 

At the end of lunch, Tammy was ready to follow Debbie to English, but Lou stopped her with a hand on her shoulder as the other girls dispersed for their afternoon classes. 

“C’mere, Tammy,” Lou said, pulling the shorter blonde into a bear hug. Met by the potent scent of Old Spice on Lou’s body, Tammy tensed for a moment, before melting into the older girl’s embrace. Lou held her tightly for a moment. “You have my number from softball, right?” Lou said quietly. Tammy nodded against Lou’s shoulder.

“You can always text me if you need anything, okay, kiddo?” Lou sounded like it was non-negotiable. “I’ll listen, or make you run bases to work off steam, or try to help if I can. I promise.”

Tammy nodded again and stepped out of Lou’s embrace. Lou lightly punched Tammy’s bicep affectionately before picking up her own book bag and heading off in the opposite direction. 

“Come on, Tam-Tam,” Debbie said, as they headed out the cafeteria’s doorway. “English awaits, and Lou can’t convert you yet.”

“Isn’t that… not how it works?” Tammy asked.

“In theory, no, but Lou has a certain way with the ladies.”

Tammy was left to stew with everything these girls--new friends, she hoped--had talked about over lunch, as Mr. Humphries used the afternoon to drone on about modernism.

On Saturday afternoon, Tammy came home from her softball game, showered, and was standing in front of her closet, wrapped in a towel and feeling uncertain. She sighed, then picked her phone up off the nightstand.

[4:42] Tammy: What should I wear?

[4:44] Debbie: idk something cute and simple

[4:44] Debbie: don’t overthink it

Tammy tried to find something remotely hip in her closet. She ended up putting together ankle boots, high-waisted trousers, and an oversized sweater, leaving her hair loose and wavy. It wasn’t exactly trendy, but it was better than most of the chiffon in her closet. She snapped a picture of her outfit in the bathroom mirror and sent it to Debbie.

[4:57] Tammy: Is this okay?

[4:58] Debbie: yes!!! sexy librarian vibes!!

[4:58] Debbie: u look comfy

[4:58] Debbie: are u ready 2 go?

[5:02] Tammy: Yes. Just so you know, my parents are home and they want to meet you.

[5:03] Tammy: So please be wearing something appropriate. Something that passes the fingertip test.

[5:04] Debbie: omfg are they seriously that puritanical???

[5:05] Tammy: Yes. They say modesty is a virtue. The meek shall inherit the earth. Etcetera. If you want me to be able to come tonight, please comply.

[5:09] Debbie: i’ll be covered

[5:09] Debbie: text me ur address

Twenty minutes later, a car pulled up the driveway. Tammy, who had been hovering near the door for the past fifteen, walked out and stopped abruptly. “Please tell me that this is a joke and you have real and  _ appropriate  _ clothes on underneath.”

“Modesty is a virtue,” Debbie said solemnly. She was leaning against her car, dressed in a cheap, Party City style pilgrim outfit, the large white collar sticking out awkwardly from the neck of the long black dress. Gesturing at Tammy’s house and the manicured lawn, she added, “I take Biblical values very seriously. Unlike your parents, who apparently didn’t really read the book of Matthew.”

“As in the Gospel of Matthew?”

“Chapter nineteen, verse twenty-one: ‘Jesus said, If you want to be perfect, go and sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven.’”

“Did you know that off the top of your head or did you look that up to prove a point?”

“I looked it up.” Debbie grinned. “Thank god I never deleted the Bible app from my phone.”

Tammy sighed. “Just… come in. Say hi to my parents. Tell them you just came from theme party and that you’re not crazy.”

“Don’t sweat it, Tam-Tam, I’m wearing real clothes, too.” Debbie pulled off the pilgrim costume and threw it into the backseat of her car, instead donning a denim jacket over the striped t-shirt tucked into her ripped jeans. 

Tammy internally let out a sigh of relief. Even though her mother wouldn’t let her wear distressed denim, she wouldn’t be offended by Debbie doing so. As Tammy led her through the large, open foyer, Debbie marveled at the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the chandelier, and the orchids sitting on a small table. She whispered, “Will you be my sugar mama?” 

“No.”

“Can I at least do something obscene to mess up this Martha Stewart wet dream?”

“God no.”

“Whatever you say, my princess,” Debbie teased. “Nor shall I spit or make rude gestures or wipe my fingers upon the tablecloth or sit with my legs uncrossed.”

“A lady only crosses her legs at the ankle,” Tammy said.

“It was a joke.” Debbie stared at her for a moment. “I have  _ got  _ to get you out of this house.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a habit. This stuff really matters to my parents. Maybe just don’t talk a lot.” With that, Tammy pulled Debbie into the living room. Her father was on one end the couch, reading the news on his phone, and her mother was at the other end, working through a crossword puzzle.

“Mom, Dad, this is Debbie Ocean,” Tammy said.

“Ah, Miss Ocean. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mr. Preston rose in greeting, taking off his reading glasses, and reached out to shake Debbie’s hand.

Debbie gripped his hand firmly. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Preston.”

Tammy’s mother set down her puzzle. “Hi, Debbie,” she said sweetly. “I’m glad you gals are going out tonight. I’m afraid our Tammy doesn’t get out a lot. Please have a seat.”

“Well, I promise we won’t be doing anything too wild,” Debbie said, winking at Mrs. Preston as if they had been friends for years. “Tammy has been kind enough to assist me with our study of the English literature, and I wished to repay her kindness by inviting her to a small gathering of friends.”

“That’s very hospitable,” Mrs. Preston said, sounding impressed. 

Mr. Preston chimed in, “Would you care for any refreshments while you’re here? We have water, sparkling water, lemonade, iced tea… I think there’s some root beer in the garage.”

“No thank you, sir. Lips that touch wine shall never touch mine.”

“It’s not… alcoholic.” Mr. Preston’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“The principle stands,” Debbie said blithely.

“Would you like a glass of water, then?” Mrs. Preston pressed.

“Um. Okay.”

“Plain or sparkling? Bottled or tap?”

“Just… tap water, I guess.” Debbie smiled helplessly at the two adults. “I didn’t know water came in so many varieties.”

“Tammy, be a darling and get your friend a glass of water,” Mrs. Preston said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tammy said. She practically ran to the kitchen to get a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the tap, hoping that Debbie would not say anything too shocking in her absence.

When she returned, Debbie was finishing up what seemed like a long-winded speech with “...and that’s why I consider Ronald Reagan to be the greatest president of the United States.”

Tammy’s parents had an odd expression on their faces. They were relaxed. They were smiling. Tammy wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the fact that Debbie had quickly and thoroughly charmed her parents, not sure how much of what she had said was serious or a joke. She handed Debbie the glass of water and awkwardly stood next to her friend’s chair.

“Tammy, your parents are simply charming!” Debbie said. “I’d hate to have to say my goodbyes, but I was hoping you could give me a tour of the house before we go?”

“Oh! Please, feel free to have a look around,” Mrs. Preston said. “It was lovely to meet you, Debbie.”

“You as well.” Debbie reached out to shake hands with Mr. Preston again, and then curtsied, just before Tammy steered her out of the living room.

“You have fully lost your mind,” Tammy said through gritted teeth as she brought Debbie up the stairs.

“Perhaps,” Debbie said lightly. “But I got your parents to like me.”

“And that's weird,” Tammy said, leading Debbie into her bedroom. 

Debbie’s jaw dropped open at the antique furniture and floral wallpaper, the pale pink ruffles of Tammy’s bedspread, the neatly arranged bookcase. 

“Oh, wow. Are you sure you’re not secretly a retiree in a high schooler’s body?”

“It’s all stuff my mom chose She’s very picky. I’m their only daughter, so they put all their hopes and dreams on me.” Tammy fingered the edge of her bedspread. “I play softball because my dad played Division One in college and was supposed to go pro before his father needed him to become an official part of the family business. I’ve already started to go to cotillions in order to find an eligible husband. But it’s whatever. I don’t exactly love it, but I can’t really change it.”

“Oh, Tammy, I’m sorry,” Debbie said. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Tammy looked up, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her with all the other things she wanted to say. Brown eyes met brown eyes, and Tammy said, “No, you don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Can we not talk about it right now? Just let me be normal, for once.”

“Okay.” Debbie’s forehead was wrinkled with concern, but her voice was cheery. “Let’s bop.”

Tammy grabbed her purse from the back of her desk chair and followed Debbie back down the stairs. Debbie had an old, grey sedan plastered with bumper stickers. It looked out of place in the Prestons’ smooth-paved driveway. The back seat was decorated with mini throw pillows and a set of fuzzy dice dangled from the rearview mirror. When Debbie started the car, plugging her phone into its charger, One Direction started playing through the speakers and Tammy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t judge,” Debbie said sternly. “But don’t ever mention it to the girls, or I will never hear the end of it.”

“I won’t,” Tammy promised.

“Okay, we also need to pick up Amita and Daphne,” Debbie said, flicking on her turn signal.

“Daphne lives nearby, right?” Tammy asked.

“Yeah. And Amita’s not too far either. Lou’s picking up the rest.”

The two girls chatted idly as Debbie drove, talking about school and TV, not really saying much Outside of Daphne’s house, Debbie pulled up next to the curb and picked up her phone, texting Daphne and switching the music to some indie singer that Tammy didn’t recognize. The ride to Amita’s house wasn’t that much longer, and Tammy let the other girls carry the conversation.

When Debbie pulled into a pizza place Tammy had never been to before, the four of them clambered out of Debbie’s car. Lou, Constance, Nine-Ball, and Rose had already claimed an outdoor picnic table and were sitting in the glow of the store’s artificial lights.

“Debbie, Lou played country all the way here,” Constance complained as soon as she was within earshot.

“Tragic,” Debbie said unsympathetically. 

“These insufferable youngsters don’t appreciate the classics,” Lou said, reaching out for Debbie’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

“What a shame.” Debbie smiled down at Lou. “Okay, we’ll go get the food. All the regulars?”

The girls clamored their preferences for toppings and sodas, pulling cash from their pockets and purses, handing Lou the wrinkled bills. Debbie pulled out her phone to write everything down, and she and Lou disappeared inside, Lou’s arm wrapped protectively around Debbie’s shoulders.

Tammy watched the two of them, a pantomime of teenaged bliss under the fluorescent lights of the pizza shop, any noise of the busy restaurant muffled by the glass that separated the inside from the outdoor seating area. Debbie was laughing at something Lou had said, her head tipped back and her wavy brown hair falling down her back. Lou’s hands were slipping under Debbie’s jacket and gripping her waist, pulling her impossibly close, kissing Debbie’s chin.

Tammy tore her gaze away, trying to not think about the twisting feeling in her gut. She knew that they were close, but she hadn’t known that they were dating. She wasn’t mad at them for hiding it (it made sense, at their school), and she wasn’t jealous of their relationship. It was good that they had each other, and it was nice that they were so comfortable together. Debbie relaxed around Lou, her impervious charm softening, revealing silliness underneath. Lou, likewise, dropped her bravado and didn’t swagger about so much, treating Debbie like she was the most important thing in the whole world. But Tammy didn’t want to watch them kissing or holding hands or doing something  _ more,  _ an unfathomable more that Tammy refused to think about.

She refocused on what the other girls were talking about: a TV show called Jane the Virgin. It was a show that Tammy had actually watched and enjoyed. It was sweet, and even though it was often very silly, she liked that it embraced the implausibility of its plots.

“Bridget Regan is hot,” Rose was saying.

“You just want her to top you,” Nine-Ball said. Rose laughed but didn’t disagree.

“I mean, yeah, she is, but it’s not really an excuse for the fact that Rose Solano is a literal criminal,” Constance argued. “I blame Joss Whedon for bringing the trope of equating lesbianism with being evil into the forefront of American media.”

“And they’ve really fucked up Luisa’s character, too,” Amita added. “Like, what is even going on at this point?”

“All Hollywood is doing is making lesbians suffer,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes. “I plan to change one day.”

“I thought the storyline with Petra was nice,” Tammy offered.

The other girls turned to look at her.

“Interesting,” Daphne said. “Why did you find it so compelling?”

“It seemed natural,” Tammy said. “Like, having J.R. in her life was confusing for Petra, but she dealt with it pretty honestly, and it wasn’t an overnight transformation, but just a new part of her character. And didn’t the writers use it to incorporate fan perceptions into the show?”

“Wow, a true ally,” Constance said.

“That’s a fair point,” Amita added.

Tammy was saved from having to say anything more as Debbie and Lou returned with two pizzas, a basket of garlic knots, and a tray of soft drinks. There wasn’t quite enough room for all eight of them to squeeze around the table, and Debbie ended up on Lou’s lap, Lou wiping tomato sauce off of Debbie’s cheek with her thumb, Debbie feeding Lou a garlic knot and Lou nipping at her fingers.

Tammy looked away again, focusing on the slice of veggie pizza in front of her. Their physical affection was so natural, Tammy thought. They didn’t think about; it just happened. The other girls were unbothered by casual touches; they also seemed to be comfortable with each other, drinking from each other’s straws and swatting each other’s hands away from their plates. At one point, Daphne got up to put Constance’s hair into twin French braids, and the younger girl barely looked up her food as Daphne’s fingers wound into her hair.

Tammy pushed aside the other thoughts that were creeping into her head and tried to settle in with the group. She was happy to squeeze into the back of Lou’s car with Nine-Ball and Amita for the ride to the movies. The eight of them picked seats in the back row of the theater, where some new action movie was playing. They whispered and giggled throughout the movie, passing around buckets of popcorn. As the credits rolled, Constance threatened to pour the remainder of her slushie on Debbie and Lou for making out during the good parts.

Daphne carried Tammy piggy-back style out of the theater, spinning around and imitating sound effects from the movie, laughing when Daphne dropped her in the parking garage to play-fight with Lou. When Debbie dropped Tammy off at her house, Tammy stood in the driveway for a minute, watching her friend’s taillights disappearing down the block.

Tammy had spent the past several years keeping her distance from other girls. She had thought that her heart had begun to close in on itself. 

Now, Tammy felt her heart slowly opening up. For once, she felt like she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments fuel updates! :) follow me here or @petitegaynerd on tumblr


	2. love you like a sister always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tammy processes her feelings. Lou listens and helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind and enthusiastic response to my first chapter! Sorry for the delay, but I've been busy with work and this chapter ended up being longer because there was a lot to work through, and splitting it up didn’t seem to make sense. This story is definitely going to warrant at least one more chapter than I had originally planned. Enjoy!
> 
> TW for major angst, internalized homophobia and some homophobic slurs, underage drinking

The next few months were a blur, as winter descended, bitter wind sweeping leaves away from the trees, leaving skeletal branches behind. Tammy still sometimes sat at her old table of friends, but with every passing week, the girls there seemed increasingly cold and uninteresting, recycling the same snide remarks and conversations. Whenever she sat there, she longed to be with Debbie, Lou, and the rest, talking and joking. 

Tammy started going out with her new friends almost every week, whether it was for movie nights at Lou’s house or getting giant milkshakes at the diner or riding around with the windows rolled down and Fleetwood Mac pouring from the stereo. Even though her parents had become slightly more lenient, happy that Tammy was happy, she still had the earliest curfew of the group, so she sometimes had to duck out early from their get-togethers, and some days Tammy felt left out. Her friends didn’t know exactly why Tammy’s parents were so strict, but they were kind enough to not wear their slightly provocative t-shirts to Tammy’s house. They didn’t really go to Tammy’s house a lot anyways.

Lou knew the most about Tammy's home life, which still wasn’t much, but she had pieced together some details from Tammy’s off-hand comments and her own interactions with the Prestons at softball games. Tammy found herself drawn to Lou. She was laid-back and calm. Lou was comfortable with herself in a way that Tammy never was, and listened compassionately to Tammy whenever Tammy could muster up the courage to talk to her.

On New Year's Eve, Tammy was laying in bed, idly watching reruns of  _ The Office _ . Her mother and a team of caterers and decorators were rushing about downstairs, setting up tables and flower arrangements and candlesticks for the party that was yet to come that night.

Her phone buzzed, and Tammy’s heart jumped at the text from Debbie on the screen. 

[5:14] Debbie: hey come over

[5:14] Debbie: nine and lou r here

[5:14] Debbie: we’re hanging out

She was grateful to have something to shake her out of the ennui that had built up over too many days cooped up in her house.

[5:17] Tammy: I would love to, but I can only come over for a little while. My parents are throwing a party tonight and I need to be there and be presentable.

She got up, exchanging her worn Winnie the Pooh pajama bottoms for thick leggings and pulling Uggs out of her closet. Her phone chimed in rapid succession.

[5:20] Debbie: fuck that means you can’t pregame with us

[5:20] Debbie: *can’t pregame MUCH ;)

[5:21] Debbie: bring some of ur parents’ good hooch

Tammy sighed. It’s not like her parents would notice the disappearance of a bottle, but it was definitely illegal and possibly morally wrong to take liquor from her parents’ party supplies. But she didn’t really want to say no to Debbie, either.

[5:24] Tammy: What would you like?

[5:24] Debbie: omg ur a legend

[5:24] Debbie: tequila?? or vodka pls

[5:25] Debbie: but like a small bottle

[5:25] Debbie: my parents r home

[5:26] Tammy: I swear one day you are going to get me arrested

[5:27] Debbie: if i ever get u arrested it will b for something bigger than underage drinking

[5:27] Tammy: Please don’t make that a promise

When Tammy entered Debbie’s bedroom less than half an hour later with a twelve-ounce bottle of Grey Goose in her purse, she found Lou and Nine-Ball lounging on Debbie’s full-sized bed, as Debbie stood in front of her dresser in a bralette and sweatpants, carefully applying makeup in the mirror above it. The door was widely--conspicuously--open, but Tammy started to close it behind her on instinct.

“Hey Tam-Tam,” Debbie said. “Leave the door open. Parental rules.” She set down a makeup brush to accept the bottle of vodka that Tammy handed her. “They’re so dramatic sometimes. It’s not like we’re going to have an orgy in here.”

“Well, darn,” Lou said. “That’s the whole reason I came over here.”

“Besides, we can’t,” Nine-Ball said. “You need five people to have an orgy.”

“I don’t want to know why you know that.”

“My interests are teasingly diverse,” Nine-Ball said. “Besides, the jury’s still out if Tammy here would be into that, so it’d be a throuple at best.”

Tammy chose that moment to settle on the bed, sitting cross-legged near the headboard, next to Nine-Ball, as Lou sprawled on her back at the foot of the bed. Tammy took a drink from the bottle that Nine-Ball passed her, and shrugged.

Debbie dropped the palette in her hand with a clatter and jumped on the bed, pouncing on Tammy. “Hmm, what was that? Was that lack of an answer an indication that the power of Sapphic love finally overtaken you?” 

“Hey, give her space,” Lou said, gently pushing Debbie with her foot.

Tammy’s heart was pounding wildly, but it was now or never. She said, “Who’s to say I wasn’t already consumed by Sapphic passion?” It wasn’t a full admission, but it was something close to the truth.

Lou rolled over to look at Tammy straight-on. “Kid,” Lou said. “You’re kickass.” 

Tammy wanted to hide, spying the affection in Lou’s eyes. The glint of humor she saw there as well kept her from burying her face in a pillow. Lou added, teasingly, “However, I don’t approve of starting your journey as a lesbian with a foursome.”

“This is hardly the beginning of my journey,” Tammy pointed out. “I’ve spent the past two months making my way through Rose’s unofficial history of gay cinema with you guys.” She took a deep breath to calm the churning in her stomach and added, “If seeing Jennifer Beals’ arms wasn't enough to make me consider girls in a new way, then I somehow don’t think a foursome would do the trick either.”

“Ugh, that’s right,” Debbie groaned, as she settled into Lou’s side. “Rose claims it’s for art, or research, or understanding our history. But half of those movies are downright awful.”

“They’re not all terrible,” Lou said, kissing Debbie’s ear.

“So, have you ever kissed a girl?” Nine-Ball asked, curious.

God. That was something that Tammy never would forget. “Yes,” she said, taking another drink to avoid saying anything more.

“Wait, when? Who?” Debbie asked. “Do we know her?”

“No. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not getting out of that so easily,” Debbie said.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Tammy said, her eyes flashing up to meet Debbie’s and feeling a sudden lump of panic in her throat.

Lou lifted an eyebrow. She didn’t want to probe a sore spot, asking instead, “Do you want to kiss another one?”

“Maybe. Yes.” Tammy cleared her throat. It was terrifying to say it out loud, but it somehow loosened the tightness in her chest.

“So, is Bette your type? Like, total power dyke?” Debbie asked, snuggled into Lou, Lou’s arm curling around her waist.

“I don’t know if I have a type,” Tammy said to her hands. She’d never really talked about her crushes. She didn’t have crushes. Or conscious crushes, anyways. Dating was something she had given up thinking about, the idea buried somewhere in her closet under piles of old homework and winter blankets. 

“Who  _ do _ you think is hot?” Nine-Ball asked.

Tammy paused for a moment. She’d never vocalized her thoughts before. Having friends who asked about her feelings, and cared, and didn’t judge was only slightly less nerve-wracking than avoiding talking about her feelings at all. And it’s not like she hadn’t thought about it the past few months, especially as she listened to her friends talk openly about their crushes, both on celebrities and people they knew. Rose, for one, frequently drafted her thirst tweets over lunch. But Tammy’s thoughts had caused her to lie awake for many weeks, sweating or crying and always feeling paralyzed. 

Glancing away, pretending to be fascinated by Debbie’s haphazard bookcase in the corner, she squeaked out, “Uh, I guess Lauren Graham’s kinda hot. Like in Gilmore Girls?” She had watched the show with her own mother. She had tried to care about Rory’s parade of inadequate boyfriends, but found herself way more interested in Lorelai, especially when she was wearing a low-cut dress or nothing but one of Luke’s oversized flannels.

“Ooh, an older woman,” Lou teased. “Interesting.”

“Please don’t make this more weird.” Tammy’s face was growing redder by the minute and she hugged one of Debbie’s pillows close to her chest.

“To each their own, you know? And I don’t blame you,” Lou said, winking. “I, too, have a thing for leggy brunettes.” As if to prove her point, the hand on Debbie’s waist slid down to her thigh and Lou began kissing the back of Debbie’s neck.

Without warning, Tammy’s mind suddenly filled with visions of a Debbie-Lorelai hybrid, all high heels and wavy brown hair and talking too much, and the thought of it was overwhelming. Her heart dropped into her stomach and she tried to steady her breathing.

“Lou,” Debbie whined, breaking away and simultaneously--unknowingly--snapping Tammy out of her reverie. “Don’t you dare mess up my hair.”

“I plan to mess up much more than that,” Lou said devilishly. 

“Later, hon,” Debbie said, smiling impishly in return, but untangling herself from Lou’s hands and standing up. As she returned to her mirror, she said, “Although speaking of cool moms, I’m deeply grateful that my parents are letting us go out tonight, even if they still somehow think Lou is going to knock me up in here. They’ve decided they want a quiet night in.”

“What are the glamorous Oceans doing this year?” Nine-Ball asked.

“They’re no longer glamorous, they’re old,” Debbie said, leaning in to pull a mascara wand through her lashes. “Mom and Dad are apparently celebrating ‘British New Year’s,’ which means that they’re going to toast at seven o’clock, put on Love Actually, and hit the lights by ten p.m.”

“It’s nice that they have their own thing,” Lou said.

“Our thing will be you hand-feeding me porridge when we’re old and grey,” Debbie told her.

“I’ll work that into the wedding vows,” Lou said dryly.

“Where are you guys going tonight, anyways?” Tammy asked, glad to have something to say that wasn’t deeply personal. 

Lou was already dressed to go out. Her clothes were very Lou, and far more formal than Tammy thought a high school party would require. She was wearing silky white blouse unbuttoned halfway, hinting at a strappy bra, a loose bow tie draped around her neck, the shirt tucked into black cigarette pants. Her feet were bare, shoes tossed aside on Debbie’s carpet.

“It’s a party. Claude fucking Becker is hosting it.” Nine-Ball rolled her eyes. Like Debbie, Nine-Ball was in a state of half-dress, her hair gelled and her face beat, but still wearing a loose t-shirt and spandex shorts, her red dress hung on the knob of Debbie’s closet door. “He’s a dick, but he’s filthy rich--his parents are art dealers or some shit--so he’s got the resources to party hard and not get in trouble.”

“He’s not that bad,” Debbie said, fluffing out her hair. “Danny thinks he’s okay, and he does throw a good party.”

“He’s head-over-heels in love with you,” Nine-Ball snorted. “He offered to send a limousine to pick you up. He offered to  _ give you  _ said limousine, complete with a driver. He’d probably buy you a castle if you asked.”

“It’s sweet. You know, like a preschooler sharing his toys,” Debbie said. “I can’t help it that he thinks I’m hot stuff.”

“You are hot stuff, baby,” Lou said.

“And he’s completely unaware that he’s barking up the wrong tree,” Nine-Ball said.

“Debbie’s just trying to make me jealous.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like claiming what’s yours,” Debbie said, returning to Lou’s space, flicking her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Especially when you can hold it over an inferior  _ boy. _ ”

Lou grabbed Debbie’s wrist and kissed the inside, pressing her lips to the soft skin there. Looking at Debbie through her bangs, she murmured, “I like you no matter what.”

Nine-Ball coughed loudly and drawled, “Hey, unless this is actually headed into foursome territory, will you please save the foreplay for another time?”

“It’s a little nauseating,” Tammy added, smiling in spite of herself.

Breaking eye contact with Lou, Debbie sighed. “Anyways, stringing Claude along is fun, even if it’s morally wrong. Besides, I’ve got to keep my flirting game on point in case my lesbian lover here ever decides to break my heart.”

“I couldn’t if I tried,” Lou quipped, poking Debbie’s bare side.

“Hush, lover.”

Lou dramatically belted out her best Elton John before Debbie tackled her, kissing her until they were both gasping and giggling. Their quiet hangout erupted into an impromptu dance party, Nine-Ball pulling up music on her phone, Debbie pulling Tammy off the bed to swing her around the room, Lou whipping her hair back and forth as she jumped up and down on the bed. 

Tammy was sweaty and full of endorphins by the time she checked her phone and realized that she had to go. Nine-Ball hugged her goodbye. Lou slung an arm around her shoulders and Debbie’s hand slipped around her waist as they walked her to the front door.

“Happy New Year, kid,” Lou said sincerely.

“May your year be full of happiness and hot women,” Debbie said. “Not just us, but one who you want to smooch and date.”

Tammy huffed a laugh. She knew Debbie didn’t mean anything by her words, but there was no way that Debbie’s prophecy could come into fruition under her parents’ roof. But She couldn’t say that. She couldn’t say anything.

Lou, always intuitive, somehow always wiser than her years, told Tammy, “We will always, always be here for you and we will help you figure shit out.”

“I don’t want to go to this party,” Tammy said grumpily. She couldn’t--wouldn’t--say she didn’t want to have to go back to her parents’ house where she would have to erase everything she had just told her friends. “It’s stupid and awful and I don’t belong there.”

“I know, Tam-Tam, I know,” Debbie said, patting Tammy’s back, more tender than Tammy had ever heard her before. 

Lou’s voice, in contrast, was bitter. “You don’t ever have to fit in there, but you should go soon because your parents will probably ban your dyke friends from speaking to you ever again if you don’t show.”

Debbie shot her a look over Tammy’s head.

Lou softened, adding, “But we do love you, and I want you to call us when it’s over or if you need a distraction. I want to know that you go to sleep okay. We can all go out for brunch in the morning or something.”

“Thank you. You’re right, I should go. I love you too, but please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Before they could say anything more, Tammy headed down the path to her car. Her friends really did look like parents, Tammy thought, Debbie leaning on Lou’s shoulder, their fingers intertwined as they watched her back out of the driveway.

“Daphne’s going, right?” Lou murmured.

“I’ll text her,” Debbie said.

“Good.”

Tammy composed herself on the way home, her jaw clenched and her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. She breezed past her mother in the foyer and she took her time getting ready, splashing her face with cold water and putting on a little makeup, brightening her eyes and darkening her brows. She changed into the dress her mother had laid out on the bed, full-skirted and forest green, with a modest black cardigan and accompanying black flats. Dutifully, she opened the jewelry box on her vanity, clasping a string of pearls around her neck and clipping her hair back with the matching barrette.

Smoothing her hands over her dress in the mirror, Tammy ran a final check of her appearance. She looked poised. Demure. But maybe a little depressed. She lifted her chin and thrust her shoulders back, her party smile settling on her face as she descended the stairs. Some guests had already arrived and were milling about in the living room.

Tammy headed over to her mother.

“You look just lovely,” Mrs. Preston said, touching Tammy’s cheek.

Tammy flinched away. It was only a small move, but guilt twisted her insides as she did so. She tried to compensate, saying, “Thanks, Mom. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, honey, we should be all set. Enjoy yourself.”

Tammy somehow settled into her usual party mindset, neutral and polite. She got food at some point, nibbling at appetizers as she answered questions about how she was doing in school, what she was thinking about college, how she was preparing for the upcoming softball season. She didn’t hate these parties. They weren’t terrible, just tedious, an endless cycle of small talk.

Eventually, she got tired of sitting on the couch and went upstairs to her room, finding a blanket and putting on her coat. She slipped down the back staircase, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the fridge and heading out the back door. Outside, the air was cool and fresh, biting at the inside of her lungs. She headed out into the lawn, making her way to the bench swing at the far end of the garden. The swing was obscured from the house by foliage, but the house glowed brightly enough that Tammy could feel a sense of privacy without being consumed by the darkness.

She curled up at one end of the swing, wrapping herself in the blanket and uncorking the champagne, cradling the bottle against her chest and taking slow sips. She began to feel looser as the wine coursed its way through her body, and she welcomed the way it eased the tension in her shoulders.

Her reverie was interrupted, who knows how much later, by a boy’s voice shouting, “I’ll call you!” and a girl giggling in response. Tammy straightened, pulling her blanket closer around her as rustling sounds approached her swing. A few moments later, Daphne Kluger stumbled close enough that Tammy could see her, wearing a little black dress with a boy’s sport coat draped over her shoulders and her heels in her hand.

“Hey, stranger,” Daphne grinned, a little winded, and plopped herself down next to Tammy, making the swing sway a little harder.

Tammy breathed a small sigh of relief at the familiar face. “Hey, Daphne. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah. My parents dragged me along.” Daphne tossed her shoes on the ground, tucking her bare legs under her.

Tammy shifted, unwrapping part of her blanket to drape it over Daphne’s lap, scooching closer to her in the process. “Well, it seems like you found at least a little bit of fun.”

“I did. I mean, I’ve known those boys my whole life and they barely have one personality between the four of them. And it’s not like I’m going to fall in love with one of them just because we took baths together as children.” Daphne sounded amused. “Besides,” she said dramatically, “They’re nowhere near as interesting as you. You’re smart and I like that you don’t put up with any of the bullshit in our group.”

“Thanks,” Tammy said.

“Ugh,” Daphne said, rolling a crick from her neck and running her fingers through her hair. “Have you been out here the whole night?”

“Pretty much. I mingled and ate, but when James Grayson asked me to dance with him, I left. He gets handsy when he’s tipsy.”

“Men,” Daphne scoffed. “They’re insufferable.”

The quiet of the night settled between them for a moment, before Daphne abruptly changed the subject. “So, I want to know: are you the kind of person who likes to reflect on the year that has passed, or would you rather just say ‘fuck it’ and move on?”

“Honestly, I think it’s always a combination of those two things,” Tammy said. “It’s not like the calendar really changes anything in my life, but at the same time, I do really like the idea of a fresh start. Next year feels big, important. Senior year, you know?”

“I’m just trying to finish junior year alive first, but yeah, I know what you mean. I’m ready to be done with high school, but at the same time, it’s also going to be a year full of lasts, and that’s scary. Like I think about the fact that we’re basically going to have to say goodbye to Lou and Rose. I mean, it’s not like they’re going to  _ die _ , but it kind of feels like our group is slowly breaking up.”

“Yeah.” Tammy nodded. She knew Rose was Daphne’s closest confidante, and she herself would miss Lou pushing her around at softball practice. Trying not to dwell on what might or might not come, she asked Daphne, “Did you make any resolutions for this year?”

“Nothing specific. All I really want is fame, wine, and money,” Daphne said, flinging her arm over her forehead dramatically.

Tammy laughed, then said, “Hold on, I can provide at least one of those things.” Tammy pulled the bottle of champagne out from where it had been nestled against her side and handed it over to Daphne.

“What a bad girl you are, Tammy,” Daphne said appreciatively.

“I dunno about bad,” Tammy said, propping her head up with her hand and watching Daphne drink from the bottle. Daphne was pretty, she thought, her pale skin reflecting the moonlight and her brown eyes sparkling with fun. “Let’s just call me festive.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Daphne said, winking.

As Tammy took the champagne back from her friend, the booming and popping of firecrackers sounded.

“Happy New Year,” Tammy said softly.

“Happy New Year, Tammy.”

Impulsively, Tammy leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against Daphne’s half-open mouth. She was suddenly swept up in the sensation: Daphne’s lips were soft, and she tasted like champagne, a little bitterness mixed with the sticky sweetness of her lip gloss.

Tammy pulled away, concerned, asking, “Shit. I’m sorry. Was that okay? It seemed like… I dunno. Tradition. The right thing to do.”

“Yes,” Daphne whispered, “Come here.” 

She pulled the champagne from Tammy’s hands and set it on the ground. Then she pulled Tammy closer, Daphne’s hands warm on her waist and Tammy’s hands finding their way into Daphne’s hair and their mouths finding each other again, their noses bumping in the darkness. Daphne smelled like sweat and something fruity. If this was sin, Tammy thought, she would have to make her peace with it. Daphne nipped at Tammy’s lower lip, coaxing her mouth open, Tammy crushing their lips together again, desperate and yearning.

The sound of noise blowers and party poppers coming from her house made Tammy sit upright and pull away from Daphne. “Fuck,” she whispered, rubbing a hand against her eyes. This was a mistake. A stupid, glorious mistake that might hurt a friend she cared about. It was seventh grade all over again but so much more: more frightening, more emotional, more vulnerable.

Daphne reached over, gently stroking Tammy’s arm. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, Daphne,” Tammy said. I’m sorry. My parents, they--I can’t… not here, not now.”

“We are out here, alone, in the dark. No one’s going to see a damn thing,” Daphne said stubbornly. “And they can bite my ass.”

“No, no, Daphne, you don’t understand. It’s not that it’s  _ you,  _ it’s that it’s  _ me _ .” Tammy felt idiotic, hearing the cliche coming out of her mouth, but her heart was pounding wildly and tears were threatening to pour down her face once again. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I need… space.”

She practically ran up to the house, stumbling slightly as she entered the bright lights again. Her mother was right there and Mrs. Preston turned, seeing Tammy, concern and worry quickly etching her face. “What’s wrong, honey?” 

Tammy shook her head. She needed to be out of the house. She had to lie, to say something. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “One of my friends is in trouble. I need to go check on her.”

“Tammy, is everything okay?” Her mother’s voice was still concerned, but there was a steely hint of disapproval that made Tammy nervous.

She was too tired to come up with a story and settled on platitudes. “It will be, Mom. I’ll be safe, I promise. I’m sorry. Please just enjoy your party. I’ll be back soon.” 

She headed towards the front door, thankful that her keys were still in her coat pocket.

Across town, Lou was kissing Debbie, happy and a little bit drunk, as the clock struck midnight. Debbie had jumped into Lou’s arms, her legs wrapped around Lou’s waist as Lou spun the two of them around on the dance floor. Debbie’s hair fell forward, providing them with a small curtain of privacy until someone shoved into them and Debbie’s feet abruptly hit the sticky floor again.

“I didn’t invite you here to act like a fucking lesbo!” Claude Becker shouted, too loud in Debbie’s ear over the pulsing music.

Debbie glared at the boy. “Fuck off, Claude.” She turned back to Lou, dancing to the beat

Claude’s sweaty hand clamped onto her shoulder, pulling her to face him. “Hey. Listen to me! You’re fucking hot. You shouldn’t waste that on a dyke.”

“Claude Becker,” Debbie said, eyes blazing. “I am not your property or here to do your bidding. Moreover, I am not remotely interested in a  _ boy  _ who thinks that using slurs is a good way to get a girl’s attention.”

“You’re a bitch,” Claude spat.

“Watch your language,” Lou said, her voice dangerously cool as she put herself between Claude and Debbie. 

Debbie felt the shift in Lou’s stance and touched Lou’s shoulder. “Hon, don’t. He’s not worth it.”

“He’s an ass,” Lou said, crossing her arms, her eyes not straying from Claude Becker’s shiny, scruffy face.

“What did you call me?”

“An ass. You’re a misogynistic, selfish, clueless prick!”

“You’re a fag,” Claude retorted, leaning into Lou’s face, his breath foul with alcohol.

A second later, Lou’s knuckles collided with Claude’s cheek. The boy staggered backward, bumping into other people dancing before crashing onto the ground. The side of his face was angry red as he glared at Lou.

“Fuck you!” he shouted as he scrambled up again.

“At least I  _ have  _ a girlfriend to fuck me,” Lou said, taunting.

“We are leaving  _ now, _ ” Debbie said in Lou’s ear. She had found Nine-Ball and they were now by her side, scowling at Claude.

“Happy new year, asswipe!” Lou hollered as Debbie dragged her towards the door.

Lou wordlessly slumped into the back seat of Debbie’s car and Debbie slid in next to her, Nine-Ball with the keys. As Nine-Ball pulled onto the main road, Lou’s phone started buzzing in her back pocket. She pulled it out, squinting at its brightness, then slid her thumb across the glass.

She pressed her forehead against the car door window. “Hey, Daphne.” 

“Uh, Lou, hey.” Daphne laughed nervously on the other side of the connection. “Um, so I’m at Tammy’s house, right? And then… we were talking, and stuff, and then she kinda bolted? I’m pretty sure she drove somewhere but I have no idea where and maybe you might have a clue?”

Lou sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Fuck.” Debbie squeezed Lou’s knee, her face showing worry even in the dark.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Daphne continued. “I know it’s a lot to dump on you and I don’t even know if you can do anything about it but I’m kind of stuck at this party. She said something about needing space, but I don’t really know if that means much and she’s not answering my texts.”

“Daph, it’s okay,” Lou said. “I’ll text her, or call her. If she doesn’t answer, I don’t know what to do any more than you do. But we’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Daphne said. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Bye, Lou.”

Lou let her phone drop into her lap.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“Tammy.”

“Shit,” Debbie whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Nine-Ball glanced at them through the rearview mirror.

“Not sure,” Lou said, picking up her phone again. The dim blue light of her screen lit up her face. She was chewing her bottom lip with her teeth.

[12:11] Lou: Tammy

[12:11] Lou: Where are you?

[12:11] Lou: What’s wrong?

[12:13] Lou: Please text me back

[12:14] Lou: I can listen or help or whatever.

[12:16] Lou: Honestly I don’t have to know what’s up but I need to know you’re alive

[12:17] Tammy: I’m alive

Lou sighed in relief.

[12:18] Tammy: Please come.

[12:18] Tammy: I’m in the dugout.

“Hey, can you drive me to school?” Lou asked Nine-Ball.

“Gotcha,” Nine-Ball said, lifting a hand. She changed lanes abruptly.

[12:19] Lou: I’m still with Debbie and Nine-Ball, just so you know.

[12:20] Tammy: I don’t really want to deal with a lot of people right now

[12:21] Lou: They’ll stay in the car. I promise.

[12:22] Tammy: Thanks.

[12:23] Lou: No problem, kiddo.

A few minutes later, Nine-Ball pulled into the parking lot closest to the athletic fields.

“Tammy asked that you guys wait here,” Lou said, opening her door.

“I’ll drop Deb at home cause it’s close, and then come back in my own car,” Nine-Ball said. “Keep us in the loop if you need to, dude.”

“Hey.” Debbie tugged Lou back towards her, making the blonde bend down for a kiss. “Be smart. You don’t have to fix everything. Just because you think you can doesn’t mean you have to. And I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Lou said. She held her jacket closer to her body as she walked out onto the grass, her heels sinking into the ground and her breath puffing white clouds in front of her.

She saw Tammy, pacing back and forth in the dugout, wearing a dress and a coat that was definitely more substantial than Lou’s jacket. “Hey, kid,” Lou said, sitting down on the cold metal bench, leaning against the back wall. 

“Hey.” Tammy sniffled, offering Lou a weak smile. “Thanks for coming. I don’t deserve you guys.”

“Tammy.” Lou spoke her name like a gentle reprimand.

“What?”

“You deserve friends who love you. You deserve this, and way more.”

Tammy, now in the far corner of the dugout, exhaled sharply and looked away.

“Tammy, what’s going on?” Lou asked.

“I don’t know,” Tammy said, despairingly.

“Can I ask you questions? Would that make it easier?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. That’s a start. Did Daphne do her awful Seinfeld impression?”

“No,” Tammy said, a small smile appearing despite her lingering tears.

“Did a boy try and get fresh?”

“Lou, you sound like you’re sixty years old. And no.”

“I’m spitballing here,” Lou said, a tiny smile on her lips before her expression turned serious again. “Did your parents do something?”

“I mean, not tonight,” Tammy mumbled.

“Is this because of something your parents have down before?”

“Kind of.”

“Is this because of what we were talking about in Debbie’s room earlier?”

“Kind of.” Tammy spoke barely above a whisper.

“Oh, kiddo.” Lou’s voice was emotional. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tammy said.

“I’m sorry the world is so shitty,” Lou amended. 

Tammy turned to Lou, her eyes shining with more unshed tears. “Is it always this hard?” she asked softly.

“Pretty much. I mean, I’ve kind of always known, even if I didn’t have the words for it. But I knew that it made me different and maybe weird and that’s why my heart nearly pounded out of my chest every single time I got a text from my fifth-grade girlfriend on my fucking Motorola flip phone because I was afraid that my parents would find out.”

Tammy couldn’t help but laugh at Lou’s self-deprecating smile. Tammy was now standing opposite Lou and leaning against the chain link fence. 

Lou continued, “I told my parents when I was twelve, but we didn’t really talk about it for years, so I was unsure of what they thought and I beat myself up about it. It wasn’t til Debbie forced me to invite her over for dinner as my girlfriend that I think my parents finally processed it and talked to me. Being queer, coming out--it’s messy and difficult. It’s never going be easy. But it’s also fucking magical when it’s right.”

“I can’t come out to them.”

“You don’t have to. But I do think  _ you  _ need to know who you are and be okay with that because otherwise, you’re going to end up hurting yourself and other people. I’m really proud of you for talking to me and Deb and Nine today. That was really fucking brave.”

“Yeah, well…” Tammy started, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. Hesitantly, she asked, “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.” Lou patted the bleacher next to her and Tammy sat. She eased into Lou’s open arms, her head resting on Lou’s shoulder.

“I kissed my best friend in seventh grade,” Tammy said softly. “Marie O'Connor. She was the prettiest girl I knew. God, she had these huge blue eyes and curly hair and the longest lashes I’d ever seen. I couldn’t believe she was my friend. But we were inseparable, always giggling and talking and having sleepovers. And then there was this one day...”

Words failed her for a moment. Lou squeezed Tammy tight.

Tammy took a deep breath. “I don’t even know how it started. Or I’ve blocked it out. But we were at her house and she kissed me. It made me dizzy. I knew it was supposed to be wrong but it was the best thing I’d ever felt. We kept kissing during playdates and in dark corners at recess. Then one day we were at church and waiting for our parents to stop talking, and I think we sneaked into an empty classroom or something. But then my mom found us and I was the one who got in trouble because my hands were up her shirt and Marie said she was confused.”

“Tammy,” Lou said softly, almost like an apology.

“It could have been worse,” Tammy said. “My parents didn’t send me away or really do anything else besides praying more and being stricter. I wasn’t allowed to talk to Marie or anyone else who might have ‘liberal tendencies,’ as they so delicately put it. So I shut down. I made new friends but I barely talked to them. I tried so hard to be the daughter my parents wanted, doing everything they asked. Slowly the feelings began to fade away.

“And I thought it was done, that it really was just a phase and that I had somehow grown out of it, all the hormones and confusing feelings. But then I met you guys, and you all seemed so happy and comfortable and all those feelings came rushing back. And then I kissed Daphne tonight because we were talking and it was midnight and I had the excuse of tradition and I wanted to know what it would feel like now.

“It felt so good and so scary and oh, Lou, I really have no idea what to do anymore. I’m supposed to be the good daughter, their perfect angel. I’m supposed to marry a nice man and have babies and then I might finally be good enough.” Tammy tried to keep talking but her throat closed up, tears starting to stream down her face again.

“Oh, Tammy. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Lou murmured, wrapping Tammy in her arms. “You are already good enough.”

The two girls held each other tightly, hot with tears and brimming feelings. Lou stayed there as long as Tammy needed, even as the cool breeze made her shiver where Tammy’s tears had dampened her shirt. Slowly--Lou wasn’t sure how long it took--Tammy’s breath began to settle, her heaving sobs quieting.

“Thank you, Lou,” she whispered.

“You’re more than welcome,” Lou said, equally quiet. “And listen, you don’t have to figure everything out tonight. You have years to worry about your future, about what it should hold and what it will look like. It’ll take time, and it definitely won’t be easy, but you owe it to yourself to know how you feel. Oh, and you should talk to Daphne. She deserves the truth, or at least part of it.”

“I will,” Tammy said.

“Good,” Lou said.

Tammy pulled her phone out of the pocket, pressing down on the home button to read the time. It was nearly one o’clock. “God, I need to get home,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Is your car here? Do you want me to drive you?”

“No, it’s okay, Lou. I can drive. But thanks for offering.”

“You can tell your parents I had a crisis of faith and that you offered counsel,” Lou joked half-heartedly as she followed Tammy out of the dugout.

Tammy let out a watery chuckle. “Hey, if anyone can save you from a life of sin it’d probably have to be me.”

“I don’t know if anyone can at this point,” Lou said wryly. “But you are more than welcome to come sin with me anytime.”

“You’re a real one, Lou Miller,” Tammy said, smiling softly.

“You got it, Tam-Tam,” Lou said. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do,” Tammy replied. After one final, tight hug, they parted ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, there is a half-written gilmore girls au in my drafts. will it ever see the light of day? probably not lmao
> 
> comments make me smile and encourage quicker updates! :)


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